


Calm and Wild

by Somebodys_Hermione



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (dont worry it doesnt last long), Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/F, Fairy Tale Retellings, Temporary Character Death, loosely based on the Firebird, post ep 86
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somebodys_Hermione/pseuds/Somebodys_Hermione
Summary: Once upon a time, two knights fell in love...Written for Beauyasha Week 2020, prompt: "freeform- Fairytale AU"
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Calm and Wild

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Turn the Lights Off" by Tally Hall

Once upon a time, two knights fell in love. One was both the calm before the storm and the storm itself, who fought, so they said, with a greatsword filled with the might of pure lighting, and when she fixed you with her gaze the ground beneath you would shake with the weight of it. The other was the wind blowing a wildfire, all speed and muscle, and razor-sharp wit, who commanded her staff with like an additional limb and always left behind a flurry of ribbons and bruises spinning in her wake.

Now the stories don't usually go like this, with the knights choosing each other. The knights find a princess, or a sword, or inner peace, and they're always happy to have found it. These knights were no exception, for they had been graced to find themselves with a group of fearless adventurers and together they traversed the land, fighting dragons and vanquishing evil. And the knights were happy, so very happy to have found an ending that finally made sense of all the heartache and loss that permeated the start of their stories. 

But this was not the end.

There came to the realm an evil unlike anything the people had seen before. An evil sorcerer who wanted nothing more than to drown the world in shadows. And when it came time to build himself an army with which to accomplish these goals of misery and destruction, he turned his eyes to the storm knight herself. With the angelic blood in her veins and the voice of the storm in her heart, she would be a great boon to the wicked sorcerer's cause. So he bewitched her mind and called her to him, in a voice she had no choice but to answer. 

Her loss splintered the group. There were members who claimed that this meant she had been evil all along, simply using the group to further her own ends. Others remained steadfast in their belief that their compatriot had been stolen from them, forced to do the dastardly work against her will. The wind knight simply stood at the edge of the forest and listened for thunder. 

The road to vanquishing the malevolent force would not be an easy one. The sorcerer had hidden himself away in a castle deep within the woods and held the storm there with him. And while she remained in the darkness’s grasp, the land suffered. Lightning came without the comforting balm of rain, setting fires to homes and forests. Clouds choked the sun from the sky, causing the crops and the people who grew them to wither. Balance had been lost, so the group set off into the woods in hopes of restoring what had been taken from them. 

When they entered the woods, they were immediately swallowed by the dense trees. The path began to thin, and soon the adventurers were forced to walk one by one, feeling the forest slowly consume them from all sides. For 3 days and 3 nights, the group walked, stopping only to ask the trees for guidance. And on the 4th day they reached a large stone gate, taller than any one of them and so wide they could scarcely see the edge. 

At the gate, the group began to debate how to get across. As they bickered, unable to decide if they should attempt to pick the lock or climb over, the gate began to slowly screech open, as if it had been expecting them. Unable to take the time to consider the implications, the adventurers continued through. And it was at this moment that the castle became visible in the distance. 

When they reached the towering structure, built solely with bricks and seemingly held together with vines, the most striking aspect was how open the building was. There was not even a door, simply a large open space, with nothing barring the group from entering, so enter they did. 

And the sorcerer was waiting for them.

The adventurers fought bravely, and they quickly overpowered the sorcerer and his minions. But when the killing blow pierced the sorcerer’s chest, the blade pierced an empty cavity. The sorcerer laughed. And then he called the storm down on them. 

And the storm always fought bravely. But she still was but one fighter against a small army of six. And at first, it seemed as though the group would simply outnumber her, despite her strength. But a stroke of ill luck hit at that moment. In the midst of the fighting, the wind knight had been knocked to the ground, but before she could regain her footing the sorcerer hissed in the storm’s ear and the storm’s blade came down into the wind’s chest. The look exchanged between them contained an array of unspoken things, but it lasted only a moment before the wind succumbed to the hit. 

Seeing her companion dead on the ground by her own hand released the spell the storm was under by the smallest fraction, and before she had even realized it she was screaming. And while there was little she could do while still under the sway of the darkness, the storm was determined to provide something as a small bit of protection as best she could. From the small bunch on her belt, the storm picked a small blossom (for storms always bring flowers) that was the most perfect sky blue, to match the eyes of the fallen knight. And as the storm slipped the flower into the wind’s dark hair, she bid it to protect the wind from whatever was to come, for the journey ahead would hold many dangers if they were to successfully defeat the darkness. And while the sorcerer watched this happen he thought nothing of it, for what power could possibly reside in the small petals of a wilted flower? So he simply called the storm back to him and bid the group to leave, laughing at their folly for challenging him.

Mourning their loss, the group gathered around the body at the steps of the castle, and their pain called the spirit of the woods herself to the group. Grieved by loss and incensed that the sorcerer had dared to take life in her lands, the woods breathed the spark of life back into the knight, and offered her wisdom for the journey that still lay ahead.

_ The sorcerer has hidden his heart deep within the forest, and so long as it remains beating he will never die. If you wish to defeat him, you must find the heart. At the edge of the forest is a lake with a great island in the center. Only one will be able to cross the lake, so you must choose wisely. Hidden on the island is a small wooden box, and inside you will find the beating heart. It can be killed with a sharpened stake of birch, but be mindful, it will attempt to infect your own heart with darkness before it succumbs, and if you let it, your efforts will have been in vain.  _

And so the group began to travel, following the guidance of the woods. And as promised, they found an expansive lake, with a singular boat perched on its shores, small enough to fit only one of their party. 

One by one, each member argued why they would be the best choice, whether it be their ability to find the heart, or stab it with vigor, or successfully resist the tendrils of darkness that would inevitably attempt to crawl into their souls. And the wind was just as loud as all the rest of them, but as she watched them try to choose who would take the risk, she suddenly understood with pure clarity what she must do. The wind had seen the pain in the storm’s eyes before she died, and she desired nothing more to destroy the entity that had caused it. And she couldn’t bear to potentially lose another of her companions. So, the wind took the boat and began to paddle to the island with a determined strength, gripping a sharpened birch twig in her fist. 

It did not take long for the wind’s piercing gaze to settle on a small chest nestled in the base of a hollow tree. And opening the box quickly confirmed her suspicion, with a small, withered heart burrowed in the lining. And that is when the whispers started. 

And oh, the things the heart said to the wind that day were  _ cruel _ . As she raised her stake to stab it through, the wind’s mind was suddenly filled with wicked thoughts she knew were not her own, but it became hard to tell as they slowly mingled with the darkest thoughts she herself had had late at night when she was the only one awake. For who was  _ she  _ to attempt this? She was just a scared little girl who had grown up to be an angry young woman. And the storm certainly didn't want the wind to save her, she would likely have chosen anyone else. What if when they returned to rescue the storm, all they received in return was derision? Derision that the group had allowed their weakest member to be the one to deal with the heart? And then the storm would leave and the wind would be left alone. 

From the banks of the lake, the group did not have a good view of what was happening. Their companion was the merest speck in their vision, but they did see the shadows begin to rise. It would have been impossible to miss those shadows. They appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and slowly began to choke the wind, until her friends at the shore could see nothing but a large black void where she had stood. And while they screamed and cried there was nothing they could do, for there had been only the one boat. 

Now, the stories differ about what happened next. But there are some that swear on their own mortal souls that what the group standing on the shore saw next was a small beam of brilliant blue light, like the sun peeking through the clouds. And when the wind returned to the group she had a calcified, very much dead heart in her hands and a brightly glowing flower tucked into her hair. And while one can never know what truly saved the wind from the darkness that day, young lovers still gift their partner's flowers, in the hopes that the love and tenderness enmeshed in the blossom is enough to grant protection on dangerous journeys. 

The sight of the destroyed heart was enough to strike fear into the soul of the sorcerer, and that fear released his grip on the storm. Free at last, the storm missed no time dealing the killing blow. And this time it stuck. 

Seeing the wind alive and standing before her was almost too much for the storm to bear, but only almost. The wind was quickly enveloped into a deep embrace by the storm, which she quickly returned, all too happy that the heart’s whispers had been proved untrue. 

Storms and wind make an excellent combination. Together they can create everything from vicious hurricanes to the warm summer breezes that smell so strongly of rain, but there is a lifetime for that. In this frozen moment of time, the storm and the wind were happy to simply share a kiss so full of joy and relief that it felt like how they’d always imagined a happy ending would. 

Even if this was not the end. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to TheWisdomQueen for giving me so much info about the Firebird myth that I promptly just completely ignored (im sorry there's not an egg...or a duck... or a rabbit...or a needle, actually lol)   
> you can find me on tumblr @somebodyshermione


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